


Cult or Clan?

by shadowmaat



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Death (non-explicit), Mandalorian History (Star Wars), Mentions Slavery, POV Armorer, debunking cultist propaganda, nonhuman Armorer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29666037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: Bo-Katan Kryze thinks she deserves the Darksaber, but the Armorer isn't the only one with a different opinion.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 158





	Cult or Clan?

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a spitefic in reaction to people actually _believing_ Bo-Katan when she accused Din of being in a cult, but it sort of morphed beyond that. This isn't a Kryze-friendly fic. It's also un-beta'd because my usual peeps aren't caught up on the show.

Bo-Katan Kryze.” The Armorer studied the woman before her, taking in the pale human skin, the too-red hair, and the sneer that seemed permanently etched on her face. “The last Scion of House Kryze comes before me today to plead her case on the matter of the Darksaber, sacred symbol of the Mand’alor, won in fair combat by the head of Clan Mudhorn. What is your complaint?”

She knew full well what the complaint was; Kryze had been making noise from one end of the galaxy to the other, but the formalities needed to be observed.

Kryze’s sneer deepened. “I’m not  _ pleading  _ anything!” She snapped. “I’m here because that beskar-plated  _ thief  _ stole what was mine!”

She jabbed a finger at Din, who stood behind the Armorer along with the few members of the Tribe they’d been able to recover, along with some new members who’d appeared with news of the resurfaced Darksaber.

A creak of armor had the Armorer raising her hand, forestalling whatever comment Din had been about to make.

“Was the Darksaber not in possession of Moff Gideon when Clan Mudhorn claimed his prize?”

“Yes, but-”

“And how did Moff Gideon come into possession of it?”

Kryze’s face darkened, almost matching her hair. “He almost killed me! It wasn’t a fair fight! He had his damn Purge Troopers backing him up!”

The Armorer tilted her head, acknowledging that Kryze had a point, if a small one.

“Just because the Darksaber once belonged to you does not mean it should be yours by default.”

“But-”

“How did you first come to claim the weapon?”

Kryze froze, her gaze skittering across the loose collection of gathered Mandos.

“I got it from Sabine Wren,” she said.

The Armorer smiled under her helmet. “Did you best her in combat, then, as is demanded by legacy?”

The glare directed at her could have been used to melt down beskar.

“No.”

The word was brittle and full of sharp edges. The Armorer nodded as muttering broke out behind her. It seemed that was not common information. Unsurprising. She’d had to contact Clan Wren herself to find out the truth.

“Then it was never truly yours in the first place.”

“It’s my kriffing birthright!” Kryze lunged forward, only to be restrained by her sole verd, Koska Reeves, who muttered something into Kryze’s ear.

The Armorer inclined her head. Her weequay ability to scent pheromones might be hampered by her armor, but she didn’t need it to know the hunt was on. She grinned.

“Your birthright?” She kept her tone mild. “Clan Kryze isn’t descended from Clan Vizsla, who could be the only ones to claim the Darksaber as a birthright. Kryze is a Kalevalan House that was only imposed after the Civil War.”

“I don’t need a history lesson from a damn cultist like you!” Kryze snarled.

_ There it was. _ The muttering behind her stirred again, angrier this time.

“Cultists?” Paz’s voice lifted above the others. “What the f- oof!”

Ignoring Paz’s quickly-silenced outburst, she walked several paces to the side, Kryze watching her like a shriek-hawk. Reeves, at least, displayed concern, though she didn’t dispute her alor’s claim.

“While our Creed is a strict one, the Children of the Watch was created in order to escape the  _ true  _ cult known as Kyr’tsad.” The Armorer turned, pacing back the other way as she watched her target. “The Ade be’Tsad rescued foundlings from battlefields and gave them a home.  _ We  _ didn’t steal children from their families and raise them to be terrorists and slaves.”

“Liar!”

Kryze drew her blaster and there was a susurrus as the gathered witnesses raised their own weapons. Reeves wavered a moment before standing beside Kryze, her own blaster raised as well.

For someone who had to be in her fifties, Kryze still had the blazing temper of someone more than half her age, all barely-contained rage that threatened to scorch anyone who got too close. It was unbecoming in someone who remembered when Mandalore was still habitable.

“The mines of Concordia are full of small skeletons that say otherwise.” The Armorer’s heart burned in her chest. She knew from personal experience how Kyr’tsad viewed children. She’d managed to survive despite their best efforts, and without any help from the New Mandalorians, who viewed violence as a sin and looked down upon those who weren’t pale-skinned humans like their Duchess. And her sister.

Long before the Empire had re-glassed Mandalore there had been Death Watch and the New Mandalorians, slowly killing off or stripping away all the cultures and traditions that used to make the Mando’ade a strong and diverse group.

“But I suppose that is a discussion for another time,” she said before Kryze could venture an argument. “For now, the matter before us is who may claim the Darksaber, and with it, the title of Mand’alor. Alor Mudhorn.” She turned enough to see Din twitch in place, but not so far as to let Kryze out of her sight. “What do you plan to do with the Darksaber?”

There was a pause and an audible huff as he lowered his arm- the one with the gauntlet full of whistling birds, she noted with approval.

“I don’t plan to do anything with it,” he said, the growl in his voice more pronounced than usual. “I’d give it to Kryze, but she says it doesn’t count if it isn’t a fight.” He paused, light gleaming off his helmet as he tilted his head. “Even though she’s apparently done that in the past.”

“That was different!” Kryze snapped. “I told you-”

“It  _ was  _ different,” the Armorer agreed. “You didn’t view Wren as a threat to your power.”

Kryze scoffed. “Him? A threat? He’s a fool! He asked  _ Luke Skywalker _ if he was a Jedi!”

“I don’t keep up with politics, okay?” Din grumbled.

The Armorer raised her hand for silence, but Kryze had to get in one last swipe.

“He only got the Darksaber through lies and sheer dumb luck!”

She bit back a sigh. While it was true that Din had an unusually strong penchant for finding trouble, he wouldn’t have survived this long on dumb luck alone, and he wouldn’t be the Face of the Covert if lying was his only skill. No, he’d honed himself into a weapon, using the fires of his youth to temper himself into a force to be reckoned with. The addition of the child he'd recently given up had made him into a shield as well as a weapon, which was all for the better as far as she was concerned. He was someone who could be counted on to protect others, even if he remained in denial of that himself.

Somewhere, she was sure, Hod Ha’ran was laughing. The Tricster god had truly blessed Din, and she looked forward to seeing how it would all play out. Perhaps she could nudge things along.

“Tell me, Alor Kryze, what would you do if you regained the Darksaber?” She inclined her head, almost tasting the currents of change in the air.

Kryze finally lowered her blaster and straightened, shoulders squared and eyes blazing with fervid belief.

“I’d unite the clans and fight off the Empire to retake Mandalore! Then we’d burn every last remnant from the galaxy!”

Beside her, Reeves nodded, holstering her weapon.

“So it’s to be war, then.” The Armorer watched Din from the corner of her eye. He’d gone perfectly still at Kryze’s pronouncement.

“Mandalorians are a warrior race.” Kryze lifted her chin. “It’s time we reminded the galaxy of that!”

A faint tremor went through Din. The Armorer tilted her head in his direction. “You wish to add something, Mand’alor?”

He twitched, and she could well imagine the glare he was leveling at her for using that title. He took a deep breath, light gleaming off his chestplate, and for a moment she was afraid her gambit had failed, but then he spoke.

“There are barely any of us left,” he said. “A fight like that would wipe us out completely.”

Kryze made a show of rolling her eyes and addressed the mostly-calmed crowd behind him.

“So he’s a coward as well as a fool. And  _ this  _ is who you’d have be Mand’alor?” She waved her hands as if to indicate the ridiculousness of it, but the witnesses were not so easily swayed.

"And you'd wipe us all out for what? To prove how strong we are?" He unclipped the Darksaber from his belt and strode toward her. "You think  _ this  _ is all it takes to be a leader?"

There was a snap-hiss as the blade ignited. Kryze flinched, but didn’t step back.

“Everyone keeps telling me it’s a symbol of our glorious past, but it’s just a weapon, and weapons are only as good as the one who wields it.” He swished it through the air, making it hum. 

Kryze leaned carefully away, but didn’t give ground. The Armorer felt a warm glow of satisfaction as she watched them.  _ This  _ is what it was all about. This is where entitlement and blind reverence clashed with common sense and respect.

“It’s mine by right,” Kryze said, though there was a note of caution in her voice now.

“Then you can take it from me.” Din pointed the blade at her chest. “But that  _ doesn’t  _ make you fit to be a leader.” He jabbed it forward, forcing her to take a step back. “All you want is glory, not responsibility.”

“That’s not true-” she started.

“Isn’t it?” He stepped back, flipping and catching the still-lit saber. “What did you do with this the last time you had it? Did you help to feed people? To find them homes? Give them safety and shelter?”

Her lip curled, eyes never leaving the saber Din waved in front of her. 

“Or did you rally the survivors and lead them straight into the maw of the Empire?”

“You don’t understand,” she said.

“You’re right, I don’t.” He held the saber to one side, pointed at the ground. “I was too busy trying to survive. And what our people need right now is someone who will  _ help  _ them survive. Someone who will give them time to heal and grow. Someone who will help them become what they were meant to be, not throw them away as pawns in a fight to show who’s best.” The modulator did nothing to hide his derision.

He used the Darksaber to gesture at the group behind him. “Those people right there? They’ll fight if they have to. They’ll die if they have to. But they shouldn’t  _ have to. _ It should be a  _ choice, _ not a compulsion.”

“I never said-”

“You did,” Din interrupted. “You called me a coward for being unwilling to fight the whole Empire. Every life is important, Kryze, even yours.” He pointed the saber at her again. “Our people are no good to us if they’re dead. If you really cared about Mandalore, if you really cared about her people, you’d be doing everything you could to keep them alive. A leader is someone who  _ protects  _ their people.”

He shifted into a fighting stance, Darksaber held at the ready.

“What do you say, Kryze?”

For a moment, everything shifted. The shimmering, light-sucking black of the Darksaber seemed to suffuse Din’s armor, turning him into a living extension of the blade. A Darkshield.

It was gone in the blink of an eye, but the Armorer knew what she’d seen. So did the gathered watchers. They began dropping to one knee, heads bowed in fealty. 

This was more than even she’d imagined. She’d known Din had potential and had watched him fumble his way towards growth over the years, but there was something a touch  _ other  _ about this, and she was reminded of an old legend that said Jedi weapons had living souls. Perhaps the Darksaber had just found its match.

Kryze’s face had gone grim, but she didn’t make a move. Din seemed to realize that something was wrong and turned to see the kneeling group. He swore profusely, turning to the Armorer for guidance.

Smiling, the Armorer knelt, bowing her head.

“Mand’alor.”

“This isn’t over, Mand’utreekov!”

Bootheels clicked as Kryze and Reeves turned and walked away without another word. They’d cause problems later, but she was sure Din could handle it. Din... and his people.  _ House Mudhorn _ had a nice ring to it.

“Oh, kriff me,” Din muttered, extinguishing the saber.

It was often said that the best leaders didn’t want to be leaders at all, and as monikers went, well, he could do a lot worse than Mandalore the Reluctant.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a glossary:
> 
> Ade be'Tsad (AH-day BEHT-sahd)- Children of the Watch (I made this one up based on the Mando'a dictionary)  
> Alor (ah-LORE)- leader  
> Hod Ha'ran (HODE HAH-rahn)- Mandalorian Trickster god, from "Hodar" (deceive) and "Haran" (destruction).  
> Kyr'tsad (KEERT sahd)- Death Watch  
> Mand'alor (MAHN-dah-lor)- sole ruler/leader  
> Mand'utreekov (MAHND oo-TREE-kov)- means Mandalorian fool.


End file.
